


A Meeting of Minds

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt and Lydia meet to discuss a deal, but who's in charge? Mid-Season 5, sometime prior to Say My Name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meeting of Minds

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this. 
> 
> Written for kink_bingo; "in public".

He’s wearing the black Heisenberg hat, and she’s wearing her sunglasses, but they recognize each other at once, like predators recognizing a scent.

He hates her on sight. Maybe it’s some kind of deep-seeded resentful misogyny coming to the surface because of how bad things have been with Skyler lately. It doesn’t matter, though – he quickly puts her in the same category as Jane, an annoying little girl trying to play a very dangerous game. 

“Lydia,” he intones.

“Heisenberg,” she replies, and there’s a clear hint of mockery in the name. “It’s a pleasure.” 

He wishes he could wipe the goddamned smirk off her face. This is serious business, and she’s acting like this is all a game. 

They’re sitting in some diner, one that’s deserted with the exception of them. Lydia insisted that be the case. As Walt remembers that, he considers that maybe she isn’t so foolish after all.

“You can get what we need?” he presses.

“Thought Mike was going to oversee that,” she replies, tapping the table.

“Change of plans.”

“Oh, really?” She leans forward on her arm and gives him that knowing look again. He wants to thrash her. 

He’s thinking about how insanely gratifying it would be to reach across the table and just –

Walt’s head jerks up, because Lydia could not have just done what he’s sure she just did. It must have been accidental or… But how accidental is her hand finding its way all the way under the table and on top of his crotch, exactly?

And not only that, but her hand is very much staying there, except now, it’s moving. Tightening.

Walt isn’t sure if this makes him want to kill her more or less, but hell if he doesn’t react. It’s been so long since he’s had this kind of touch, one that he hasn’t had to basically force out of Skyler, so that must be why he reacts at all, because certainly he only wants Skyler and certainly, Lydia is not like her in any way.

Against his will, he thrusts his hips against Lydia’s hand.

No fucking way is he going to sit here and let her bring him off in a diner under some table. That’d be humiliating, and Walt is done with humiliation for one lifetime.  
So he reaches out and stays her hand, grabs it hard enough to leave a bruise.

She lets out a little gasp, but otherwise doesn’t react. 

Then, she smirks at him again.

“Not here!” Walt snaps. “What is wrong with you?” 

Lydia leans in.

“Why not here?”

“Because people can…” But Walt cuts off his own protest. It would have been, after all, too much of a throwback to the old, cautious Walt, and that would be far more humiliating than letting Lydia get him off in public. He needs to be Heisenberg. _And Heisenberg would look at what he wanted and only stop long enough to take it._  
“Lydia,” he murmurs, and gestures in the direction of a small back room he had noticed on the way in. 

They rise and stride. Walt’s not entirely sure what’s going to happen once they get there, but somehow he feels it already, like running his fingers over a split electrical cord and feeling letting the sparks burn him.

They arrive, and Walt notices there’s not even a door separating them from the rest of the diner, just a little half-wall plastered with some faded documentation of the restaurant’s compliance with certain state laws. Lydia is in the lead yet again. She grabs Walt by the shoulders and crushes their lips together, and he’s temporarily struck by how soft her hair feels before that’s tempered by an urge to pull it, to best her. 

It doesn’t take long before he follows through, reaching out and yanking her hair, hard. She moans again and, with her own hand, digs her nails into his arm. The kissing turns to biting each other’s lips, hard enough to leave bruises.

When they finally part, Walt can see those bruises on her lips – it looks almost as if he’d hit her. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, but he doesn’t get long to debate it before her hands are on his hips, then unbuttoning his pants.

He leans in, close enough for his breath to graze her ear, and whispers, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
She doesn’t answer, simply throws her weight against him, slamming him into the wall. She’s not very large or strong, but Walt isn’t expecting it and collides with the edge of the wall in an awkward way, hitting his collarbone.

Now it’s Lydia’s turn to lean in. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me… Heisenberg.” Her tone has begun to shake, somewhat, but her grip on him is firm.

“Thought you wanted to work together, not fuck,” Walt hisses.

“You mean they’re mutually exclusive?” She pulls his pants down further, then his underwear, in a swift motion, but she doesn’t look at what she’s doing but rather at his face. Her expression is one of distrust, of needing to be in control, and Walt wonders what panic buttons lie behind there, oh-so-thinly veiled. 

He doesn’t get long to think about how he’d press them, how he’d master her like he’s mastered Jesse, because she’s back to work, grabbing him in hand so roughly that he actually jerks back a little at first.

“Lydia!” he barks. “Calm the fuck…” But he’s cut off by the first wave of pleasure transmitting through him like a current and jerking him back upright. He’s furious, again, and reaches out at the same time. His target, as he tries to match her roughness, is her left breast, but she easily wriggles out of his grasp as he can’t quite follow through on it – an image of Skyler flashes in his head and the rush in it turns to a deep anger that this isn’t something likely to happen in his marriage, ever again.

Lydia keeps the pressure on, giving him another stroke as she looks at him triumphantly. _So, she likes to play rough._

“Lydia,” he hisses again, but she is silent, the look in her eyes going from pride to being as opaque as her sunglasses. What is going on back there? What weakness can he exploit?  
She strokes him again, and he mashes their lips together anew, tries to bite her again but she slams him into the wall, hard. 

“No,” she whispers, going back to what she had been doing. She’s insistent upon control, and Walt hates that. So why is he still here?

The blood’s pumping in his head, in his brain, getting him almost high. There’s another stroke, the hardest yet, and he feels like he’s bleeding. It’s an insane rush.

This is the first woman he’s been with since he got together with Skyler. It all seems so terribly wrong, and yet so completely in line with what Heisenberg would do. Heisenberg would have harems, no less, women fawning at his feet, desperate for a chance with him.

Though at the moment, the best he can get is his methlyamine supplier in the back of a diner. 

He bites down on his lip and cums hard, into her hand, even while he wishes he could grab her hair, make her suck him or something like that, rough her up because she’s trying to make a fool out of him and nobody makes a fool of Heisenberg.

Instead, he slumps against the wall as Lydia wipes off her hand, disgusted, and puts it back in her pocket.

“Ready to talk business?” she inquires.

“Yeah,” Walt gasps out.

“Then get your pants back on and let’s go.”


End file.
